Page 82 of Omega's Fever
My blood chills. “Haymore?”
“Kenneth Haymore.” She says it like the name tastes bad. “Nasty piece of work. Came by the club every week, looked at us girls like we were something he’d scrape off his shoe. But he handled all of Cobb’s legitimate businesses, made the money clean. If anyone knows where the real books are hidden, it’s him.”
The coffee shop tilts sideways. I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to breathe through the wave of nausea that has nothing to do with morning sickness.
“Kenneth Haymore,” I repeat, needing to be sure.
“You know him?”
My laugh comes out cracked. I pull out my phone with numb fingers, scrolling through photos until I find one from last Christmas: Uncle Kenneth standing stiff and uncomfortable next to me, his smile never reaching his eyes, hand on my shoulder in what probably looked like affection but felt like possession.
I turn the screen toward her. “Is this him?”
The color drains from Penelope’s face. Her coffee mug hitsthe table hard enough to slosh. “How do you—oh god.”
“He’s my uncle.”
Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity. Uncle Kenneth’s insistence that I throw the case. His fury when I refused. The way he’d said I’d end up dead if I stayed with Kellen.
We’re done. I can’t look out for you if you’re going to be so stupid.
He wasn’t worried about me. He was worried about himself.
“Kellen must have realized,” Penelope whispers. “When we said the name. He would have put it together, that’s why he—oh, honey. He took the plea to protect you.”
I pull my hand back, mind racing. “He doesn’t get to make that choice for me.”
“Milo—”
“I know where Kenneth keeps things. Secret things.” The memory surfaces sharp and clear, eight-year-old me playing in places I shouldn’t. “He has a vacation house upstate. There’s an old playhouse in the back garden, been there since before he bought the property. I was playing in it one summer and found loose floorboards. Underneath was a trapdoor.”
Penelope’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”
“There’s a safe built right into the foundation. I remember because I thought it was like a pirate treasure. He caught me before I could see inside, told me never to go near it again. But I know it’s there. I know where he keeps his secrets.”
She stops, swallows hard. “We just wanted to help. We thought if Kellen knew where to look for evidence, he could clear his name without putting anyone else at risk. We never imagined—”
I stand, suddenly desperate to move, to act, to do something. “The vacation house is three hours north. If I leave now, I can be back before—”
“You need to be careful.” Penelope stands too, urgent. “Cobb’s people. They know who you are, what you mean to Kellen.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. But I’m beyond caring about personal safety.
“Thank you,” I tell Penelope. “For talking to me. For confirming what I needed to know.”
“Be careful.” She pulls out a pen, scribbles something on a napkin. “That’s Damon’s number. Just... in case. If you need help, call us. We owe Kellen that much.”
I pocket the napkin without looking at it. “Take care of yourself. And the baby.”
“You too.” Her smile is sad and knowing. “Kellen’s lucky to have you.”
My silver BMW sits where I left it, gleaming between the beaten-up vehicles of actual neighborhood residents.
There on the windshield, tucked under the wiper blade, is a playing card.
Jack of spades, torn diagonally across the middle.
My hands shake as I pick it up. The tear is clean, deliberate. The same message Kellen told me found on his bunk weeks ago.